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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074123">Every spider has its day (but today is not that day)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers'>frostysunflowers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack Treated Seriously, Drugged Peter Parker, Gen, Humor, Injury, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:06:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Peter, it’s very important that you stay awake."</em>
</p><p>"Really? Oh, okay, Karen, whatever you say."</p><p> <em>"I have informed Mister Stark of your condition and location. He is en route and will be with you soon."</em></p><p>"Mister Stark?" </p><p> <em>"He is approximately two minutes away."</em></p><p>"Oh...Why?"</p><p>or</p><p>Peter finds himself facing off with an unlikely foe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>470</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Every spider has its day (but today is not that day)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no excuse for the ridiculousness of this. </p><p>Warning for mentions of vomiting. </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s nice down here, Peter thinks. The wetness seeping into his back is warm and the smell of frying onions is oddly appetising over the scent coming from the dumpsters. </p><p>There’s much worse places to be. Even the fire escape above his head is a pretty sight, glistening with leftover raindrops from the earlier downpour, a few plant pots and ceramic animals peeking out between the railings. </p><p>He might stay here tonight. It’s cosy, especially with the lights filtering in from the nearby street. The headache that had been bothering him before is gone now too, much to his relief. That had really sucked. The blood had been really unpleasant too.</p><p>Wonder what happened to that. </p><p>
  <em> "Peter." </em>
</p><p>"Hm?" he hums, tilting his head to look around. A particularly large ornamental dog catches his eye and he grins. </p><p>
  <em> "Peter." </em>
</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>
  <em> "Peter, it’s Karen."  </em>
</p><p>"Oh!" Peter says brightly, recognising her now. He waves a hand. "Hi, Karen, how’s it going?"</p><p>
  <em> "Focus on my voice." </em>
</p><p>Squinting hard, Peter musters all his energy into doing exactly that. The force of concentration makes his bones vibrate unpleasantly and he quickly gives up, wriggling his shoulders so they can soak up some of the growing warmth at his back. </p><p>
  <em> "Peter, it’s very important that you stay awake." </em>
</p><p>"Really? Oh, okay, Karen, whatever you say."</p><p>
  <em> "I have informed Mister Stark of your condition and location. He is en route and will be with you soon." </em>
</p><p>"Mister Stark?" </p><p>
  <em> "He is approximately two minutes away."  </em>
</p><p>"Oh...Why?"</p><p>Karen’s reply buzzes, an incoherent rush in his ears. He finds himself thinking of the time he backflipped from the top of Stark Tower, whooshing past a furiously swearing Tony on the penthouse balcony, and starts laughing loudly at the memory. The noise bounces off the walls that surround him, and somehow that’s the funniest thing to happen in forever, so Peter laughs even harder. </p><p>He’s wheezing deep in his chest by the time he hears screeching tyres, then footsteps and someone else’s voice. </p><p>"I got him, Hap. Yeah. Call May and make sure someone’s around in medical. I’ve got a feeling this is going to be a long night."</p><p>A shadow looms over Peter, unique and distinctive even with a face shrouded in darkness, backlit by watery yellow light. </p><p>"Hi, Mister Stark."</p><p>Tony curses under his breath as he kneels down, his face emerging from the dark as one of his hands reaches out to grip Peter’s chin gently. "Honestly, kid, do you think that maybe, just maybe, you could go at least two weeks without something ridiculous happening to you?"</p><p>"Happening? What happened? I’m just hanging out. S’warm and nice, you know?"</p><p>"Pete," Tony sighs loudly, "you’re not making a lick of sense right now. Have you got any actual dictionary certified words for me?"</p><p>"What?" Peter frowns, shaking his head. "What do you mean? I am using words."</p><p>"Jesus," Tony mutters. "That stuff really hit you hard, huh."</p><p>"What stuff? There’s stuff?" </p><p>"I’m gonna take that gibberish for you asking what I’m talking about," Tony says. "Long story short, you busted the leader of that drug gang you’ve been chasing for weeks, got hit in the head with a crowbar and caught the business end of a knife in your left shoulder." He slips an arm under Peter’s waist and hoists him up into a sitting position. "Apparently those guys watch too much Game of Thrones when they’re not pretending to be Tony Montana because the damn thing was laced with some kind of toxin."</p><p>Peter’s mind drags itself out of a brooding lament for the warmth now gone from his back, and his head thud backs against Tony’s collarbone as he tries to look at the man. </p><p>"Toxin? Oh my god, am I gonna <em> die?" </em></p><p>"Most likely would have killed you under normal circumstances," Tony carries on, easing the both of them to their feet and propping Peter against his side. "Fortunately, for both you and my long suffering ticker, you’re far from normal."</p><p>"...Huh?"</p><p>"It’s made you high as a kite, kid, that’s all. Congrats, you ticked something off the dumb things to do before you turn thirty list. Mazel Tov, hip hip hooray, don’t let it happen again. Now come on, let’s hustle, you’re still bleeding."</p><p>Peter follows Tony along towards an extremely fancy looking car, trying to understand how exactly kites are able to bleed when they don’t have veins or arteries or anything remotely squishy going on. </p><p>"And don’t even think you’re getting out of cleaning the blood stains off the leather this time - "</p><p>Peter’s laughing again because his legs have morphed into noodles; limp noodles that feel like they’re flouncing and bouncing around a pair of chopsticks. He snags one of Tony’s arms and pivots limply, chin landing against Tony’s chest so he’s snickering up into the man’s very unimpressed, very frowning face. </p><p>"Jeez, Pete, watch it with the super strength, will ya? Last thing I need right now is a broken - "</p><p>Tony’s words cut off into a startled grunt as something large and white crashes onto him from above. His grip on Peter slackens and everything whirls horribly, sending Peter’s brain ricocheting inside his skull as he tumbles over. </p><p><em> "Peter," </em> Karen calls in his ear. <em> "Peter - " </em></p><p>For a moment, there’s nothing but a roar in Peter’s head, snippets of images and words that make no sense: masked men throwing punches, lots of swinging, sharp blades, toxins and rain and blood and Tony Montana and kites and that wonderful warm patch he’d been lying in earlier that Tony had so rudely pulled him away from. </p><p>Tony.</p><p>Tony is here somewhere. </p><p>"Mister Stark?" Peter huffs into the ground, face scraping against the rough surface. His pulse is throbbing in his ears now and he barely manages to lift his head to throw up, moaning as his stomach lurches in protest. "Oh man. Shouldn’t have asked for extra cheese." Taking a few deep breaths, Peter pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. "Mister Stark?"</p><p>There’s no answer, only the indecipherable hum of Karen’s voice. </p><p>Don’t panic, Peter thinks as he takes another deep breath, gagging on the cloying taste of melted cheddar. Don’t panic. </p><p>His vision turns into static and more vomit races up into his mouth. </p><p>"Oh man," he heaves, slumping onto his forearms. "Mister Stark, I really wanna go home now. We can go fly kites later."</p><p>Someone, or something, groans and Peter launches upright immediately, only to flail backwards, his head hitting the ground. The world blazes white and his pulse is going off like a siren, only this time it’s in his hands, his thighs, all of his toes, hitting everything like a drum. </p><p>"Mister Stark?" </p><p>Something hisses and there's another groan.</p><p>Blinking away the fuzziness that flares as he turns his head, Peter spots a prone figure sprawled out close by, arms and legs akimbo and eyes closed. </p><p>Dread pools in Peter’s already swirling stomach. "Mister Stark," he grunts, rolling back onto his hands and knees and shuffling over, fighting the urge to throw up again. "Holy shit, Mister Stark, can you hear me?"</p><p>In the gloomy light, he can see large marks on Tony’s face, deep and long and red. He moves closer and falls against Tony’s chest, fumbling at the man’s shoulders. </p><p>"Mister Stark, what happened?" he asks, giving Tony a shake. "Holy shit. Who did this?" Another shake. "Was it Tony Montana? Did he do this?"</p><p>There’s another hiss which trails into something of a squeaky yowl. Peter twists round and spots a gigantic mass of frazzled fur crouched by the wall. A pair of rabid yellow eyes glare at him and two rows of pointed teeth glint viciously as it hisses again. </p><p>Peter narrows his eyes. "You did this."</p><p>The cat, because that’s what it is despite its size, meows angrily. </p><p>"You’re Tony Montana," Peter concludes and it’s like everything has been replaced by red hot fury, the world swimming in brand new clarity.</p><p>There’s nothing else. Whatever was bothering him before doesn’t exist now. </p><p>All that matters is <em> justice.  </em></p><p>"You hurt Mister Stark," he growls, shuffling round so he’s facing the beast head on, coiled up like a spring ready to pounce. "Shouldn’t have done that."</p><p>They move simultaneously, lurching forward to meet halfway, ready to strike - </p><p>The claws that sink into Peter’s face are agonising. </p><p>"Ow! Ow, ow, what the hell, OW!" he screeches as he collides with the wall, flapping at the thing clinging onto his head, trying to prise it off as it snarls and spits and slashes him with furious swipes. </p><p>The ground wipes out from beneath his feet and suddenly he’s on his back with claws and teeth racing up and down his arms and chest, his vision completely obscured by fur that must be turning red with his blood by now because of how much this freaking hurts - </p><p>He hears Tony give a low groan and his focus pinwheels, the pain whirling into determination and enlightening him to the main objective. </p><p>Save Mister Stark. </p><p>Somehow, Peter really doesn’t know how it happens, he manages to free himself from the still screeching cat and shimmies backwards, sliding along the ground until his head bumps into what feels like Tony’s thigh. </p><p>"Gotta get outta here," he mumbles, craning his neck to look for some sort of escape route. There’s claws clacking menacingly on the ground so it’s only a matter of time before the monster strikes again. Peter looks up and down, left and right, then right again so his eyes can focus on the fancy car sitting just a few metres away, paintwork gleaming in the soft glow of the streetlights, as glorious as any kind of treasure. </p><p>With his shoulder throbbing, skin screaming and stomach roiling, Peter flops onto his front, hooks a hand around one of Tony's shoes and starts to crawl, dragging the man along behind him. </p><p>It’s the only way, the only chance they have of getting out of this alive. </p><p>"Don’t worry, Mister Stark, I’m gonna get you outta this. Tony Montana won’t be able to hurt you again, I promise."</p><p>
  <em> "Kid, what the hell is going on?" </em>
</p><p>The voice that suddenly booms in Peter's ear makes him scream, which is a mistake because the sound of the cat running towards him is almost instantaneous and Peter barely turns in time to block the oncoming attack, arms bearing the brunt of those razor sharp claws once again. </p><p>
  <em> "Peter? Hey! Hey, kid, stop yelling and talk to me! What’s happening, where’s Tony?" </em>
</p><p>As he wrestles with the cat, trying to push it away, recognition bolts through Peter like lightning. God he hopes it isn’t <em> actual </em>lightning because that would probably kill him and he really doesn’t want to die getting struck by lightning whilst fighting a demonic fur ball. </p><p>''Happy," he sobs, "I don’t wanna get struck by lightning and killed by Tony Montana."</p><p>Happy curses loudly. <em> "Damn it </em> . <em> I’ll be right there, just sit tight, okay?" </em></p><p>"Okay," Peter wails, giving the cat a shove that sends it running into the shadows again. He doesn’t wait for it to come back, merely grabs Tony’s foot and continues to pull him towards the car, crying through clenched teeth and blurry eyes as pain peaks across his body like solar flares and the cheesy taste returns to his mouth. </p><p>He’s so tired. <em> So </em>tired. </p><p>"C’mon, Peter," he cries as he reaches the car, forehead pressing against the door. "C’mon, just get inside, get Tony inside."</p><p>Twisting round so he can grip Tony’s foot in both hands, so he can be ready for the inevitable return of the cat, Peter lifts his leg and slips his foot into the dip of the door handle. He wiggles left and right, tries to dig his heel in so the pressure of his ankle bone will disengage the lock, but it’s no use. </p><p>"Come <em> on, </em>come on - "</p><p>A ferocious screech, like something plucked straight out of a horror movie, echoes loudly and Peter jerks his leg frantically, bawling as he tries to pull Tony closer, tries to shield him from the danger - </p><p>Then he’s being lifted upwards and something is stretching, ripping, all the way up his thigh and the world is going lopsided once again with everything the wrong way up, sideways and slanted. Tony groans unhappily, his lower body angled awkwardly towards the sky, foot still clutched tight in Peter’s hands. </p><p>Wriggling around does nothing except make the pain worse, and the will to fight vanishes from Peter like air out of a burst balloon. Still sobbing, he holds Tony’s foot to his face like a teddy bear, cheek rubbing back and forth against the leather. </p><p>A horribly deep growl comes from very close by. </p><p>God, he hopes it’s quick. </p><p>Lifting his rapidly darkening gaze to look at Tony properly, to try and offer some sort of goodbye to the man over the snarls of the approaching beast, Peter catches a glimpse of his reflection in a puddle. He blinks hard, at least three times, then moves one hand to reach out, managing to brush the water with the tips of his fingers. </p><p>The puddle ripples, shimmers, but the reflection stays the same. </p><p>"Oh my <em> god. </em>I’m Spider-Man."</p><p>Then, just as the cat lunges for him once more, darkness swoops in and carries him away. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Oh, I think he’s waking up. Kid?"</p><p>"Sweetie? Can you hear me?"</p><p>Peter immediately tries to say yes, but his tongue merely rasps painfully against the roof of his mouth. He blinks open one eye, squinting into the brightness above, and makes out the wobbly outline of May by his side. </p><p>She waves a hand and then holds up a glass with a straw inside. "Thirsty?"</p><p>Peter nods and lifts his head to catch the straw between his lips, taking three long. greedy slurps before May pulls it away, telling him to take it easy. </p><p>Sinking back into what feels like the softest pillow in the universe, Peter clears his throat and asks, "What happened?"</p><p>"You don’t remember?" Happy asks from the other side of the bed, eyebrows raised. "Nothing?"</p><p>"Uh…" Peter thinks back, pushing through the sluggish mess of his thoughts to try and figure out what exactly he’s supposed to remember. "I was...on patrol?"</p><p>Happy nods. </p><p>"And…" A faint throb of pain catches him somewhere down the back of his thigh and he glances at the cannula taped to the back of his hand. "...got injured?"</p><p>"That is putting it extremely mildly, kid."</p><p>The sound of Tony’s voice makes Peter jump and a nearby heart monitor screech for a few seconds. He hadn’t even realised that Tony was in the room but there he is, propped up on a mountain of pillows in a bed by the wall, wearing a neck brace and sporting some impressive scratches down the centre of his face. </p><p>"Mister Stark? Oh my god, what - are you alright? What happened?"</p><p>"What? This?" Tony gestures to the brace. "All the rage in Paris. I’m thinking of getting it encrusted with diamonds, or maybe a red and gold paint job." </p><p>"You need to take it easy," May says firmly. "I meant what I said about the sedatives."</p><p>Tony lifts his arm with a groan and salutes her. "Yes, ma’am." He turns his attention back to Peter who continues to stare at him in shock. "You really don’t remember what happened, do you?"</p><p>"No! No, seriously, I’ve got nothing. Oh, <em> god, </em>please tell me I didn’t put you in that brace, Mister Stark, please - "</p><p>"Calm down, honey," May laughs, reaching out to clasp his hands. ''You didn't do it.''</p><p>"I think a little movie is in order, don’t you?" Tony says cheerily. "FRI, would you do the honours?"</p><p>
  <em> "Yes, boss." </em>
</p><p>A hologram appears in the air, showing what appears to be CCTV footage of an alley. It’s dark but there’s enough light to see that it’s empty apart from a few dumpsters and puddles of rainwater. Nothing happens for at least thirty seconds, and then a very figure stumbles into view and collapses onto the ground. The image splits in half to also show the footage from the suit and Peter’s slurred laughter can be heard. </p><p>"You remember that drug baron you’ve been tailing the last few weeks?" Tony asks.</p><p>"Captain Charlie? Yeah, why - oh! I caught him!" Peter says, hands leaping into his hair. "I busted him and his gang down by the docks and…" he pauses, listening to his past self giggling deliriously whilst gazing up at a grubby fire escape littered with broken ornaments. "I did bust them, right?"</p><p>"Yup. Left them all webbed up for the cops, along with all their stash," Happy confirms. "But not before one of them managed to stick you in the shoulder with a knife."</p><p>"They did?" Peter cranes his head to look, tugging uselessly at his hospital gown. </p><p>"Mmhmm. Stabbed you with a knife laced with some sort of toxic residue."</p><p>"Toxic residue? You mean like on Game of Thrones?"</p><p>Happy’s left eye twitches. "I have no idea what that is."</p><p>"You liar," Tony snorts while May giggles. "Yes, Pete, like that. Once again your freaky mutant abilities saved you from anything truly nefarious happening, and you managed to hide yourself away before the effects of the toxin kicked in so bonus points for that, but unfortunately your dignity could not be spared."</p><p>"My dignity?"</p><p>Tony points to the hologram. With growing dread, Peter watches the events play out; watches Tony appear and hoist a jabbering Peter to his feet and start to walk away; watches as a gigantic cat plummets from somewhere above and crashes directly onto Tony’s head. </p><p>"What the hell?" Peter yelps. "Dude, Mister Stark, did that really - "</p><p>"Oh, it gets better," Tony chuckles hoarsely. </p><p>Still yelling indecipherable nonsense with the exception of the name Tony Montana, the Peter on screen proceeds to throw up, crawl around frantically on his hands and knees, pokes and prods at a stricken Tony none too gently, then launches himself at the cat lurking menacingly in the shadows. The sound of furious hissing and hysterical screaming is loud enough for Peter to wince and slouch down in his bed, bitterly wishing he was still unconscious instead of watching this. </p><p>May pats his hand consolingly, but Peter doesn’t even need to look at her face to know she’s fighting back laughter. </p><p>Tony hums gleefully. "This is the best part," he says, only to ask FRIDAY to hit pause as Rhodey steps into the room, carrying a very large bag. </p><p>"Oo, am I just in time for the trip down memory lane?" he says brightly, making Happy snort. "Good to see you awake, Pete. Tones, I got you a present."</p><p>Without further ado, he pulls two huge cat-shaped pillows out of the bag and places them on either side of Tony’s head, adjusting them with little tweaks until Tony clumsily bats a hand at him. </p><p>"Ha ha, aren’t you funny."</p><p>"Generous. The word is generous," Rhodey corrects as he pulls up a seat and props his feet up on Tony’s bed. "C’mon, I love this part."</p><p>"How many times have you guys watched this?" Peter whines even though deep down he knows it’s a bad idea to even ask. </p><p>Fortunately, he’s spared an answer as the footage resumes playing. Though Tony and Peter can no longer be seen on the alley camera feed, on account of Tony having been dragged out of sight by a sobbing Peter, the feed from the mask continues to fill the room with weeping gibberish, interspersed with burbled grunts of, "come on, come <em> on," </em>that make Peter want to shrivel up and die right here in his bed. </p><p>The cat appears again and there’s another mess of flailing limbs and shrieking, and then everything on the hologram shifts to the side, revealing a still unconscious Tony on the ground and and a shoe clutched tight in Peter’s hands. </p><p>"Uh," Peter says, pausing when Tony holds up a finger. </p><p>The Spider-Man mask appears, the eye lenses blown terrifyingly wide as they stare into a puddle. A hysterical shout of, "<em> Oh my god. I’m Spider-Man!" </em>rings out, followed by a very furious yowl, and then the footage comes to a halt. It flickers, disappears, and is replaced by a still image that has Peter wailing into his hands. </p><p>It’s not a pretty picture: an unconscious Spider-Man dangles halfway off the ground by one leg, his foot wedged into the handle of Tony’s car door - a car door that happens to open upwards instead of out. Tony himself is still on the floor doing an impression of a starfish, and the cat is nowhere to be seen. </p><p>"That’s how I found you," Happy explains unnecessarily, "after you cried down the phone and told me you didn’t want Tony Montana to kill you."</p><p>The name sparks something in Peter’s brain, a little pinprick of light that seems to spread, bringing other areas of his memory to life.</p><p>He looks at a sleepily smiling Tony. "I tried to save you from the cat."</p><p>"From Tony Montana, you mean," Rhodey cackles. "You woke up briefly on the ride home and that’s about all we could understand from the nonsense you were rambling."</p><p>"Why are we focusing on me when Mister Stark literally got pancaked by a cat?" Peter complains. "A cat fell out of the sky onto his <em> head." </em></p><p>Tony’s response is an incredibly loud snore. </p><p>"It’s okay," May says when Peter looks at her in bewildered alarm. "He’s on a lot of painkillers." She leans forward to give him a kiss on the forehead. "You should probably get some more rest too. Funny as this might seem, you're still injured.''</p><p>"Fine," Peter replies, having no energy or desire to argue. "Can someone delete all of that please? And can we take a vow to never speak of this again?"</p><p>"In your dreams, kid," Happy scoffs as he rises from his seat. "I’m gonna make sure that picture is up on a billboard in time for your graduation."</p><p>"That’s low, Happy," Peter grumbles, burying his face into the pillow. "Real low."</p><p>"Consider it payback."</p><p>"For what?" Peter demands incredulously.</p><p>"For the blood you got all over the leather of my car. And the inevitable stress you’ll put me through in the future," Happy says. "I’ve been in this gig for a long time, kid. I know that you’re only gonna get worse as you get older."</p><p>Peter’s answering scowl relaxes slightly as May runs a hand through his hair soothingly and adjusts his sheets. </p><p>"Sleep tight," she says. </p><p>"Don’t let Tony Montana bite," Rhodey adds, earning a round of laughter that makes Tony grunt in his sleep.</p><p>"You all suck," Peter says petulantly and pulls the covers over his head. "Especially Tony Montana...whoever the hell that actually is."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story came to me after seeing a video in which a cat did fall onto a guy and knock him clean out, and then his dog basically got into a fight with the cat. Peter is obviously the dog in this scenario. Inspiration was also taken from that scene, you know the one, from The Wolf of Wall Street because I still can't watch it without laughing my head off, so there ya go. Oh, and of course Scarface 'cos Tony Montana. </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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